


Opening Repertoire

by tartan_suitcase (miss_whimsy)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Chess, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/pseuds/tartan_suitcase
Summary: Never let it be said that Jim Moriarty would let death get in the way of a good game of chess.





	Opening Repertoire

"Do you actually play chess? Or is it just pretension?”

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. His hands were steepled in front of him and he pressed his index fingers against his lips. He didn't turn his head towards the man who, he knew, was now standing beside his coffee table, peering at his chess set.

"Surely you can tell me.”

“Well I can't imagine John plays,” said the man, voice ever so soft, with a slight hint of contempt. “Big brother obviously does, but you'd never play against him. So I'm going to say yes you can, but you never do.”

“Why ask questions when you already know the answers?”

“You like the sound of my voice.”

Sherlock did turn his head this time and Moriarty grinned at him, sly and knowing. 

“I’m dead, after all. Hard to have a conversation with a dead man. Unless it’s all happening in your head.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat, spinning the chessboard so that the black set was in front of him. “Play me.”

“Don’t you mean play myself?” Sherlock snapped, but he stood and moved in two strides to sit opposite Moriarty.

“You know what I’d do,” Moriarty said. “I trust you not to cheat.”

Sherlock pursed his lips and swallowed down a retort. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re bored. And I had nothing better to do. Being dead and all.”

“Are you going to keep bringing that up?” Sherlock asked, moving his pawn to E4.

“I’d say it was your mind it was preying on, darling,” Moriarty said, and moved his own pawn to E5. “You’re going with the Ruy Lopez, I see.”

“I hate you,” Sherlock sighed, but moved his knight to F3 anyway. 

“No, you don’t,” Moriarty assured him. “It’s dull without me around. Admit it.” His fingers hovered over his queen-side knight for a moment. “Hate’s a very strong emotion. I didn’t think you had those.”

“You don’t know everything about me.”

“Which is really hilarious when you consider you’re having this conversation with yourself.”

“Shut up.”

Moriarty grinned widely, then mimed locking his lips closed and tossing away the key. He moved his king-side knight to F6.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, staring at the board. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

Moriarty pointed at his mouth, and gave an exaggerated shrug.

Sherlock sighed. “Even in my subconscious you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“Which speaks volumes for your subconscious wouldn’t you say?”

“What happened to not talking?”

“I told you, you like the sound of my voice. I’m just doing what I’m told.”

“That makes a change,” Sherlock scoffed. 

“Not really,” Moriarty said. “I’m good at following orders. At least the ones I want to follow.” He leered across the table at Sherlock. “Come on, admit it. You miss me.”

“If I miss anything," Sherlock said, emphasizing the 'if’, "it's work.”

Moriarty sent a pointed look in the direction of Sherlock's laptop and then another towards the kitchen.

"I don't miss you," Sherlock insisted.

“Have it your way, sweetheart.”

There was a creak on the stairs. Both Sherlock and Moriarty kept their attention on the chessboard.

"John.”

"Obviously.”

A moment later John appeared in the doorway.

"Who's winning?”

Sometimes, Sherlock thought, John could be the most blind and ignorant of men. Other times, like now, he was irritatingly perceptive. He moved his queen-side bishop rather recklessly. Moriarty laughed.

"He is then,” John answered himself. “I'll put the kettle on shall I? Would you like a cup, Jim? Oh wait, you're a figment of Sherlock's imagination. My mistake.”

"You know, I don't think I ever really appreciated how funny John is .”

Sherlock's face twisted.

“Oh don't look like that, you're still my favourite."

“Why do you call him, Jim?” Sherlock asked John, raising his voice.

“When he’s dead you mean?” John shouted back. “It’s his name. Was his name.” He walked back over towards Sherlock and asked, “Why? What do you call him?”

“Moriarty.”

“Even in your head?” John sounded confused now. That was much more familiar ground.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Pretension again,” Moriarty - Jim - said. “Public schoolboy affectations. Shall I call you Holmes?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards John. “I don’t know.”

“Liar,” John and Moriarty said at the same time. 

“No, no,” Sherlock protested, getting to his feet. “I will not have the two of you in stereo.”

John shook his head, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace and went back to the kitchen to finish making tea.

Moriarty was slouched back on the couch, laughing. “I’d rather not be had in stereo with John either, love. I’d rather all your attention was focused on me.”

“Don’t be crude.”

“Well I could say the same to you.” Moriarty continued to laugh, tapping his head. 

“Tea,” John interrupted, holding a cup in front of Sherlock. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Sherlock asked, taking a sip of the tea mechanically. "Tell me this is dangerous or that I need help?"

“I gave up on that twenty conversations ago,” John told him. “It's been quite harmless so far. Though God only knows how often you talk to him when I'm not here.”

“Not often enough,” Moriarty said, blowing Sherlock a kiss.

“Shush.”

John chuckled. “You shush him? Interesting.”

“I shush you.”

“I’m not dead.”

“Well he’s got you there, Sherlock, dear.”

“Quiet!”

John chuckled again and sat down in his chair, picking up the newspaper. “Go ahead and finish your game.”

“Such as it is,” Moriarty said. “Checkmate in nine, I’d say.”

Sherlock sat back down and stared at the board. “Quite.” He moved the pieces back to the their starting positions. “Let’s start again.”


End file.
